running on empty

17 // Fair.

He ate a bowl of cereal and told himself that day was the day.

Brushing his teeth, he hyped himself up for the recording.

The videos he filmed beforehand were just practice, meant to get him into his filming mindset so he didn't slip up.

When he started editing, he told himself he was just keeping this productive train running.

Taking a break for lunch was important. He couldn't exactly indulge in poor habits when he was about to make a video talking about them, of course.

Emails are time sensitive, so it's really not his fault that he went straight from lunch to answering them. Who knows what important notices he could have missed?

Then he went back to editing videos again. He had ideas, things he didn't want to forget about. He couldn't be blamed for that.

Finally, after he had a late dinner and collapsed on his bed, he admitted that maybe, just maybe, he never planned to film it that day.

He tried again the next day. And the day after that. And again and again and again and again - each time getting more frustrated than the last. Even on the days he would sit in front of the camera and plaster on a huge smile, he could never seem to follow through with it and start talking.

There was even a short script collecting dust in his notes app. It was a bare bones outline, given the fact that he wanted the video to be authentic, but it was something. Unfortunately, even that couldn't get him motivated.

He felt - stuck.

It wasn't like he didn't want to talk about it - Mark and Amy had sure as hell heard enough about him and his problems.

(Problems they wanted to hear, he tried to remind himself. It was hard to believe that they wanted to help him, even when he shut them out sometimes. He was getting there, though.)

He was practically an expert in jabbering about it. But for some reason, sat in front of the camera, lights shining directly into his eyeballs and the red recording light blinking at him, begging him to say something, he just couldn't do it. The words refused to come out of his mouth. They stayed stuck in the back of his throat like clothing snagged on a bush and he could not, for the love of his life, get them out.

There were thirty-seven drafts of him staring blankly at the camera until the video ended before he decided to give up for a bit.

When Mark called, it was perfect timing. An uptick in weight-related comments left him shaky and nauseous, and he knew words weren't going to be in his favor today so he hadn't even bothered setting up his camera.

Candy Crush was temporarily blocked out by Mark's number, and he tried to pretend he wasn't even a little bit happy that his afternoon wasn't going to go to waste. "What do you want, asshole?"

Mark laughed at the playful hostility. The sound lifted his spirits, even through the grainy quality of his phone's speakers. He tried to pretend he didn't know why. "D'you wanna hang out today? I need another act of charity this month to meet my quota."

That was a new thing, too. Being able to take the insults they would throw at each other again. For a while, he was fragile enough that even a stray glance sent him panicking.

Looking back on it, he wondered how he ever thought that was healthy.

"Har har, you're so funny, Mark." He threw in a quick titter to really sell the bit before dropping it. "What were you thinking of?"

"There's a fair going on right now. Thought it might be fun? If you were up for it, of course. Uh..." He trailed off, then. His camera wasn't on, so Ethan didn't know if he had just gotten distracted by something or truly didn't have anything else to say. He decided to wait anyway. "I could pick you up? And drive you home if that works."